Knowledge Gained
by Clinkerbelle
Summary: More disappointed fangirl therapy: AU season 2. Eric/Sookie.
1. Interview with a Vampire

Interview with a Vampire

Sookie's POW.

Nan patted Eric's maker on the back in a condescending manner, noting that all he need do was sign some papers.

"Godric.", I heard myself say: "Can I ask you a couple of question?"

"Of course.", he said, extending his hand to me. Nan sneered. Godric ignored her, a flash of grim amusement momentarily transforming his features. His skin was cool and smooth. His grip deceptively gentle. He turned to Eric. Their gazes locked.

"Meet me on the roof in thirty minutes."

Eric nodded, looking as glum as I'd ever seen him.

"Sookie.", Bill warned, his hand closing on my upper arm.

"You don't trust me with your human?", Godric inquired. There was no posturing. No implicit threat. Nothing but earnest curiosity on his part. Bill seemed stuck for words. As was I. Stuck. That is. Physically restrained. By my boyfriend.

"Bill!", I hissed. Finally he released me, leaving me flushed. Embarrassed. More than a bit angry.

* * *

10 minutes later...

The door closed behind Nan. Godric and I were alone in his hotel suite. Sitting next to each other on an expensive leather couch. I'd regretted my decision ten times over at this point. He was in pain. I shouldn't be burdening him with questions. I bit my lip.

"You risked your life for my sake. I'd be grateful if you'd allow me to somehow repay the favour.", he said.

"You saved it.", I countered.

"It was only in need of saving on account of my foolishness. Please, tell me what you want to know."

"What's the effects of drinking vampire blood?"

However much I hated to admit it to myself, I didn't trust Bill any more. He had a nasty habit of lying by omission.

"On a human being?"

I nodded.

"It facilitates healing. Incites lust. A sensation of euphoria. Hallucinations. Sometimes psychosis.."

"Dreams?", I squeaked.

"No."

No?

"Dreams only occur insofar that a human feeds directly from a vampire. A smart vampire rarely allows it."

"Why?", I said.

"It leaves you exposed."

To human emotion.

"A witch may use the human's blood as a means to locate you."

"There's witches?"

Something that looked an awful lot like a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were sad.

"Werewolves. Fairies. Demons..."

_And the forces of darkness!_

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Are the dreams of my child causing you pain?"

Godric was kneeling before me, his expression now one of pure and unadulterated concern. I flushed bright pink.

"No. They're just... Confusing. An annoyance."

Kinda mushy. Especially when compared to my V-induced dreams involving Bill. The latter had been equal parts arousing and disturbing. Ambivalent at best.

"Their content is a product of your collective unconscious."

Huh?

The pad of Godric's thumb gently grazed my forehead.

"Eric is a part of you now."

He'd said as much.

"My child's hidden wants and desires are made evident in your dreams."

* * *

I was gaping like a fish out of water.

"The human desire the vampire regardless of what their dreams reveal. It can be a very disconcerting experience."

That would be the understatement of the century!

"For the vampire as well the human. We guard our secrets jealously."

Godric took my hand between his, squeezing it gently.

"In time there'll be no more dreams."

This was information that would prove reassuring. Eventually. Presently, my head was spinning.

"Will they still be able to track me?"

"Yes."

Not so reassuring.

Godric wetted his lips.

"I find it surprising that you know so little of our world. Of its many dangers."

As did I.

"I know that Pam knew Bill Compton when she was human..."

I must've made a face. Godric winced.

"She's very protective of Eric."

Then it hit me.

"She thinks I'm a threat to him?!"

"Maybe."

My gaze fell on the wall clock. Dawn was fast approaching. Godric got to his feet, brushing non-existent dirt of his white linen trousers.

"Thank you.", I murmured, belatedly remembering my good manners.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Sookie Stackhouse. You've been a breath of fresh air"

A beat

"Will you look after him?"

The very idea that Eric Northman would need looking after seemed preposterous. Or so it would've seemed only a couple of days ago.

"I'll try, but you know how he is."

He nodded.

"Please don't kill yourself!"

My eyes welled with tears.

Godric paused, his back turned to me, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"I'm already dead."

* * *

I've got no idea where I'm going with this in terms of plot, so feel free to suggest whatever you'd like. You might just get your wish.

XOXO Clinkerbelle.


	2. Sympathy for the Devil

Sympathy for the Devil

Sookie's POV.

I was hovering Eric's door steep, my eyes sore from crying, my nose runny and my face flushed.

Would it soothe his anguish, I wondered, to know that Godric had meet the sun, happy in the prospect of facing the unknown? Excited even. Or would it make it worse, emphasizing how unhappy his maker had been? I'd experienced my fair share of loss, but neither my parents nor Gran had chosen death. They'd been taken from me. Then again, the absence of choice, was a cold comfort. An injury incurred. Hardly what anyone would term a blessing. The image of a sobbing Eric kneeling before Godric, begging, flashed before my mind's eye. I sighed. Who was I kidding? There wasn't anything I could say that would make it better.

I turned the doorknob nonetheless, meeting no resistance. Someone, presumably Eric, had broken the lock. Presently, he was sitting on the king-size bed, his shoulders hunched. Blood stained his face and naked chest, emphasizing his pallor.

"Godric is gone."

The sense of pained disbelief evident in his voice would've made a stone weep. Acting without thinking, I stepped in between his leg and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was as soft and pliable as a plank of wood. I proceeded to stroke his hair and his broad back. His face settled against my stomach.

"I'm so sorry..."

A violent shiver ran through the length of his body. His hands found my hips, clasping them tightly. Almost painfully so. Cool, sticky, liquid seeped through the thin material of my dress. His shoulders shook.

Eventually his grip loosened. Movement stilled. Tension subsided, giving way to another kind of tension. Eric was...nuzzling my midriff.

I stiffened. His hands dropped to his sides. I took a steep back. Then another.

"Sookie."

His gaze reminded me of that of a starving lion who'd just spotted a fat zebra with a limp. I swallowed.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

I blinked.

"You brought him comfort."

People rarely thanked me. Lest of all know it all vampires.

"Rest assured that I won't forget it."

Considering the circumstances 'don't mention it' seemed like an inappropriate response.

"I know."

That would have to do. Suddenly his lips were less than an inch apart from mine. My breath caught in my throat.

"Don't do that!", I exclaimed, pushing against his chest.

"Sorry."

My eyes narrowed.

"Who are you and what have you done to Eric?"

A slight smile grazed his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. Which may or may not be the reason why I kissed him.

* * *

I know that a lot of you love Godric, as do I, but keeping him un-dead would engender that I erase the rooftop scene, which is my favourite of the entire series. Besides, while I like Sookie a lot, I find it implausible that the sudden appearance of a spunky telepath would serve to counteract his self-destructive tendencies once you consider the fact that Eric's pleas proved insufficient.

XOXO Clinkerbelle.


	3. It's the Blood

Warning: English is not my native tongue. I don't possess the linguistic skills needed to replicate Behl speak. Any volunteers out there for the post of translator?

* * *

It's the Blood

Sookie's POV.

Eric's response was tentative, then enthusiastic. My tongue parted his soft lips and his fingers tangled in my hair. A low growl emanated from the depths of his broad, muscular, chest. Eric had had more than a thousand years to perfect the art of kissing. Moreover, he put the time to good use. His effort reduced me to a panting, week-kneed, incoherent, mess. As I struggled to catch my breath, he touched his forehead to mine, his big hands gently cradling my face. Only then did sanity make its triumphant return, closely followed by guilt and shame.

I bolted.

It wasn't my proudest moment.

* * *

I'd hoped that Bill would be safely locked in his travel coffin, dead to the world, upon my return. I wasn't that lucky. He pinned to the wall, his pale fingers digging painfully into my shoulders. There was a wild look in his eye. His lips were pulled back in a feral snarl, exposing his fangs.

"Did you fuck him?!"

He shook me like a rag doll.

"No!"

"He's all over you!"

"We. Kissed. Bill. You. Are. Hurting. Me."

He blinked.

His gaze fixed on his hands, his expression now one of confusion and regret.

"Bill", I plead.

He dropped me like a hot potato. I scrambled, acting on an instinctive urge to be close the exit.

"He assaulted you.".

A fresh surge of fear shot through me, leaving me frozen in place. Slowly I turned to face Bill Compton. My boyfriend. My lover. My first everything.

_Deep breaths. Inhale..._

"No.

_Exhale..._

I kissed him."

A statement followed by the sound of metal bending and breaking. The door behind me fell open, revealing the looming figure of Eric Northman.

Oh joy!

* * *

Eric was naked except for a pair of jeans. His hair dark with moisture. His face set in an expression of grim indifference. He gave my body a quick, clinical, once-over, his eyes briefly lingering on the already blooming bruises on my shoulders, then proceeded to completely and utterly ignore my presence in the room. He was cool. Self contained. Positively arctic.

"Compton?"

"This is none of your business, Eric.", Bill snarled, dropping into a crouch. His finger twisted in the manner of claws. Between that and the hissing, he reminded me of a angry monkey. His feet, I noted, hovered several inches off the floor. That sure was... Something.

A display countered by an unwavering stare.

"Sookie is mine!"

The silence that followed was as telling as any threat. Gradually, Bill deflated. His fingers and back straightened. His feet were once more firmly planted on the ground, his gaze averted in the manner of an obedient underling.

"I am your sheriff. As such Miss Stackhouse is an asset of mine. A valuable asset. Break it and I'll set Pam on you. With a pair of silver nail clippers. Got it?"

"Yes, Sheriff."

And that was that. Without any further ado, the six feet tall Viking vampire left the room.

Bill slumped into into a creaking leather arms chair, holding his head in his hands. I used this as an opportunity to retrieve my bag from the bedroom and pack my toiletries. I would've liked to change out my dress and have a quick shower, but that wasn't an option any more. Rather, I washed my face and put on a black cardigan that hid the bloodstains from prying eyes if not from vampires with a superhuman sense of smell.

Upon my return to the living room, I found Bill was pacing like tiger in a cage. His movements stilled at the sight of my travel trolley. He frowned.

"It's the blood."

"What?"

"The reason why you're drawn to him. Like I told you, it's the blood."

Or the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. I'd never found Eric physically unappealing.

"Probably."

Why be cruel?

"I'm not breaking up with you because I'm sexually attracted to Eric."

The fact that I'd acted on it, on the other hand, definitely qualified as a weighty reason. I'd always despised people who cheated. Never in a million years had I thought that I'd count myself among their numbers. But that in itself wasn't the determining factor.

Relief, then confusion married Bill's features.

_Inhale..._

"I don't trust you."

_Exhale..._

* * *

"You don't trust me?!"

There was more than a hint of sneer.

"I don't trust us."

"After everything we'd been through I thought that you at least-"

"Every time I let my guard down, every time we have a bit of peace, something bad happens. I learn that you've kept something from me. Something I'd wish I cold forget. So I've quit asking. Like a dummy! You know everything about me. I know next to nothing about you. I don't even know how you earn your money!"

Bill was starring at me at this point, his mouth agape. I too was surprised. I hadn't realized that I was _that_ angry.

"Tonight, in the church, when Eric told me that you'd kill every man and child to get to me, I didn't know what to think-"

"You trust him?"

The sneer was back.

"God, no!"

My temper spiked.

"You never listen!"

Not really. He'd make all the right gestures, yet learn nothing. Our gazes locked.

"I don't trust your judgement. I can't be with someone I don't trust!"

Bill's expression grew solemn.

"I know that I made mistakes, but I've always tried to do what's best for you."

Which, in some ways, made it worse. If he'd been trying purposefully to hurt me, it would've been a simple case of cease and desist.

"Vampires don't have the same values as humans. I'm trying-"

"I love you, Bill, but I can't live like this."

With a virtual stranger. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was as simple as that. My heart racing, I grabbed my stuff and turned my back on him. My hand closed on the doorknob.

"You are spoiled for other men."

His voice was low, heavy with emotion. I sighed.

"Maybe. Goodbye Bill."

A part of me was surprised that he let me go. Eric was waiting for me outside, loitering in the hallway.

"I'm going to my brother's room."

He nodded and followed me to the hotel elevator, as silent as a shadow. Meanwhile, I was fighting back tears, amazed that I had any left to shed.

* * *

I don't know whether or not this qualifies as a credible development. I think that one of the reasons why people remain romantically linked with people with traits typical of antisocial personality disorder is the distraction provided by immediate crisis and a process of gradual normalization of abnormal behaviours. That's why, once people are well out of an abusive relationship, looking back they go: "What the hell happened?". They knew what was happening, but didn't have the time and/or surplus energy needed to recognize the presence of a behavioural pattern. However, eventually, at least in some cases, people have an epiphany and/or a change in circumstance that allows them the strength needed to walk away.

To the people who took the time to review this story and share their ideas with me: You rock! Keep 'em coming. Be it negative or positive, feedback is immensely helpful and it spurs me on.


	4. A Lamb to the Slaughter

Disclaimer: Everything is the property of Charlaine Harris and HBO.

* * *

A Lamb to the Slaughter

Sookie's POW.

The elevator doors closed, leaving just the two of us shut in what for all intents and purposes was a metal cage. Far too close for anything even remotely resembling comfort.

"It's a maenad."

"What?"

"The thing that attacked you in the woods."

* * *

Jason was lodged in a luxury suite and asleep in one room, while Eric and I occupied the next. I perched on a black leather armchair, legs crossed.

"What's a maenad?"

Eric was sprawled on a matching couch. A solid oak coffee table was inserted between us, serving as a much needed buffer.

"They were human women who resisted the worship of Dionysus-"

"The Greek god of wine? He's real?", I interjected.

"He was real. In a way. Let's leave it at that."

Blood trickled from Eric's right ear.

"As punishment he cursed them with madness and immortality. Sometimes they recruit followers. Mostly they travel alone, from one human settlement to another, seeking a fitting tribute to the god. As means to make amends. If tribute is denied them, they curse it, leaving the inhabitants in a state of frenzy that culminates either in mass murder or mass suicide."

Dread pooled in my stomach.

"How do you know all of this?"

All of a sudden.

"Godric. He wanted to know everything about you."

_Oh._

"I sent Pam to spy out the lay of the lands. It doesn't look good."

"What do you mean?"

"Is group sex on your front lawn a common, every day, occurrence in Bon Temps?"

I blinked.

Did he just say what I thought he said?

"Oh my eyes, my poor innocent eyes", he added, effecting a near perfect imitation of Pam's monotone drawl.

Your mind does stuff like that when the big bad is coming. Focus on stupid details. It's a delaying tactic.

"Pam objects to group sex?"

"To a number of the participants. Their appearance in particular."

A beat.

"What is it that I'm missing?", I inquired. Eric ran a hand through his hair. It was a surprisingly human gesture. He was... Anxious?

Which left me terrified.

"You. Your death is the tribute she sought."

And had been denied.

* * *

"Why?", I whined.

"From what I know telepathy isn't a common fairy trait, but judging by your scent I think it's fair to assume that there's a fay component to your genetic make up."

There it was. again. That word. Only in its singular form. Fairies. Fairy.

"They're are beings not of this world. Beautiful. Magical. Immensely powerful. A rare commodity in the age of steel and industry."

"I smell different?"

"Better. Sweet. Like sunshine and honey. Delicious."

"Vampire like fairies?", I squeaked.

"Oh yes."

Eric's voice was low. Raspy. His eyes, usually azure and impenetrable, darkened.

"Your fay ancestor must be a grandparent or a great-grandparent. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?"

"You'd be dead."

Apparently fairies was like catnip for vampires. Looking for a loophole of sorts, I said: "Is there a test to ascertain whether I'm a fairy..."

A fairy what?

"Hybrid.", Eric said: "You'd be a fairy hybrid. It requires that I ingest a small amount of your blood."

In other words: A taste test.

I reached across the coffee-table and pricked my thumb on his fangs: A decision I immediately came to regret. His soft lips closed around my finger. His cool tongue swirled around it. I moaned. Audibly. There was an honest to god echoing effect. I was mortified! Yet... My gaze fixed on the tent in Eric's jeans. It was a _big_ tent.

"It's the blood", I chanted, withdrawing my hand. An eyebrow arched in a questioning manner, he said: "You never desired me?"

I'm not a good liar. Rather, opting for a change of subject, I squeaked: "What's the verdict? Am I a fairy hybrid?"

He licked his lips.

"Definitely."

* * *

I loved the maenad storyline in the books and I loved Michelle Forbes' performance. What I hated about the TB rendition was the writing. Gah! It's always the writing that fucks it up. Not counting Anna Paquin's not so stellar acting skills. Also, If I want cringe inducing nudity and awkward looking sex scenes I'll watch porn, thankyousoverymuch.

Any ideas to how I might resolve it, I.e kill, Mary-an, would be greatly appreciated. Currently I'm at a loss.

XOXO, Clinkerbelle.


	5. Revelations

FYI: I can't remember when Pam and Eric got Laffy to push the Queen's product, but that didn't happen in this story.

* * *

Revelations

Sookie's POW.

Jason shook me awake.

"What's he doing here?"

"Huh?"

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched. Sleeping on the couch had left me with a painful crick in my neck.

"Him?! What's he doing here?"

Jason's expression was one of abject horror. He was pointing at the floor. My sleep-deprived brain finally managed to connect the dots.

"Eric?"

I'd wedged a pillow beneath his head and covered his semi-naked body with a blanket.

"Yeah. Eric. What the hell is he doing here?"

My mental shields were down and Jason was in an agitated state of mind. His thoughts were LOUD.

"You killed a vampire?"

Someone named Eddie. My brother looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

"Amy did."

His dead girlfriend. He'd "just" helped her kidnap him.

"Jason!"

He rubbed his neck, the very picture of a guilty conscience.

"She was hooked on V."

As was he. I frowned.

"She got you hooked?"

"Yeah."

He was lying. To protect Lafayette. I glanced at Eric's dormant form. I'd been so focused on the harm incurred by my friend that I'd never paused to consider the possible effects of his actions. The effects of V was unpredictable and medical studies classified it as a drug with the addictive properties of heroin: Information that I'd hitherto discarded on account of my personal experiences with the substance in question, but now... Well, it was a different story entirely.

"He let you off with a warning. Be grateful for that!"

Jason looked properly chastised.

"Sure. I got lucky. I know that."

"Good."

My fixed on the wall clock. The receptionist would be calling in less than ten minutes. Lift off was at 4 PM. In less than two hours.

"There's a problem back home. Eric has agreed to help us fix it."

* * *

Ginger let us into Fangtasia through the back door with a genuine smile on her face. She'd been expecting us. She even made us each a peanut butter and jelly sandwich: A true testament to the effectiveness of glamour. Mind, listening in on her thoughts, I realized that Ginger genuinely liked working at the bar. She had a vampire fetish that left her immune to the charms of humans, including my incredulous brother, and the pay was excellent. She even had health insurance. Which was the primary reason why she was less then thrilled when Sam came a knocking. My main objection was to the fact that he'd brought Lisa and Cody to a vampire bar.

"Believe me, it was the lesser of two evils. The whole town has gone bat-shit crazy.", he said, ruffling his already ruffled hair. He looked as if he hadn't slept for a week. Nor showered.

"They're chasing me. Thankfully, whatever they're on, is making them really stupid."

An image of familiar faces, the white and iris of their eyes a shiny black, flashed before my mind's eye. I got the kids seated in a booth and Ginger supplied them with sodas and jelly and peanut-butter sandwiches. Then Sam more or less dragged me into the ladies' room.

"What are you doing here?"

"I broke up with Bill-"

"You're with Eric now?!"

Sam was horrified.

"No."

Not that it would any of his business if I were.

"He's agreed to help us get rid of the maenad."

A statement that required some explaining.

"She's probably targeting you on account of you being a shifter", I finished.

"Not exactly."

Sam's cheek pinked. If it had been anyone else I'd say he was squirming.

"I know her as Mary-Ann Forrester."

Usually I can't read Sam, but sometimes stuff leaks through.

"You had sex with her and stole her money?!"

* * *

"You don't like vampires, little girl?", Pam drawled.

Oh god!

I ran to her side, trying my level best to suggest by means of a glare that Pam would wake up on fire if she hurt the girl in any way whatsoever. She seemed unimpressed. As Lisa carefully explained that neither her or her brother shared her late stepdaddy's views on vampires, I noted that Cody was examining Eric with unabashed curiosity. The latter was wearing a sleek, light grey suit, with a black silk shirt and black dress shoes. The top buttons of the shirt was left undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his pale chest. His hair was sleeked. He should have looked like a seventies' pimp. The actual result was... Mouthwatering.

He smirked.

"Would you show us your fangs?", Cody asked.

The sensation of deja vu was overwhelming. Painful. Looking back that night had been the closest thing Bill and I had ever been to a normal couple: A couple babysitting another couple's kids. One of us just happened to be a vampire. The other cursed with telepathy. We'd been people first, supernatural freaks second. At the time I'd seen it as sign of things to come.

Eric bared his gleaming fangs with a low hiss.

The sensation of deja vu promptly abated. The kids were startled, but not frightened by the display. Fascinated.

"Ginger will mind the teacup humans.", he announced and swaggered to his office. Pam followed on his heals as did I and, eventually Sam. Inside, he took a seat behind his desk, hands clasped behind his neck. Pam was at his back, leaning against the wall, examining her nails. Sam and I remained on our feet.

"Sookie said that you'd help us get rid of Mary-Ann-"

"I agreed to help her. You'll owe me a favour."

"Fine.", Sam huffed, giving me the sideways stink eye: "How are you gonna do it? She's invincible."

"Immortal.", Eric interjected.

"What's your secret?", Sam persisted.

"Explosives."


	6. WWBD?

WWBD?

"The Maenad _was_ invisible. Only immune to the effect of weapons and toxins known to the inhabitants of Ancient Thebes.", Eric explained.

* * *

Six hours later, in a moonlit forest clearing. Strangers with black pearl eyes, set i familiar faces, were closing on us from all sides. Chanting in what I supposed was ancient Greek. Some of them were partly dressed. Others fully naked. The maenad moved among them, clad in nothing but an animal skin, her thyrsus raised towards the sky in triumph. Her lips were stained with blood. I desperately hoped that it was animal.

"You want us. Not the humans. Let them go!", Sam bellowed. She snarled.

"Please?", I squeaked. The magic word, which prompted the emergence of the vampires of Area Five from the shadows. Moving as one they pushed back the oncoming herd. Using their own bodies to achieved an effect somewhat similar to that of police officers wielding riot shields only without bludgeoning members of the public with heavy sticks. That left the players at the heart of the spectacle the sole occupants of an still expanding void. The Maenad's gaze fixed on me. It made my skin crawl. Her left hand became a claw, triggering the memory of its poisons burning in my veins.

A slim figure, dressed in black leather, dropped out the sky and hit the ground before me with feline grace. It was Pam. She'd brought a rocket launcher. Shouldering it, she flicked a switch. The device powered up with a low humming noise, which was followed by a loud swoosh. And something hit me. A certain someone. Obscuring my view of the fireball enveloping the maenad. Sheltering me, once more, from the blast. Only he seemed even heavier this time around. How was that even possible?

"Eric", I wheezed and poked him in the ribs, ignoring the sound scape generated by bewildered townspeople and the approaching air plane. The kind usually employed when spraying crops. Tonight it was carrying enough regular old H2O to quell a budding forest fire.

He remained unresponsive.

_Crap!_

Once I'd wriggled free of him, the why was readily apparent. The bloody remains of the maenad's poisonous claw had cut through his black leather leather jacket. Leaving it embedded in his chest. His skin had acquired a strange waxy sheen. Not the regular pallor of an injured vampire. Like that of a corpse. I pulled off my shirt and, using it as a makeshift glove, removed the severed limb. It required a surprising degree of force. I could've been persuaded to believe the wretched thing possessed a life a life of its own. Blood welled in the wound. A crimson tide. Never-ending. Pooling around Eric's stricken figure. Nothing was visible but the white of his eyes.

"Pam", I cried: "What do I do?"

Her eyes were wide. Frightened.

"He needs blood. Only he's too weak to drop fang."

I extended my wrist to her. Cool fingers closed around it.

"Don't", Bill murmured in my ear: "You're a fairy. He'll drain you dry."

I kicked back, the heel of my boot connecting with his shin. His grip loosened. He might've cursed.

"Bite me."

Her fangs pierced my skin, leaving behind two perfectly circular puncture wounds. I barely registered the pain. I knelt by Eric's side, lodging my bleeding wrist between his lips. I shot Pam a sideways glance. Her gaze was fixed on the wound in his chest. The affected tissue was raw and swollen. By no means healed, but the bleeding had ceased. I sighed with relief.

* * *

"Enough.", Eric rasped, blue eyes blazing.

"Are you sure?"

He'd only had a couple of swallows of my blood. His gaze slid from my face to my chest.

"Yes."

He smirked.

Only then did I realize I was in my bra. I looked for my shirt, but found it covered in grey gunk. Warm hands draped a plaid shirt over my shoulders. Sam. He smelled like smoke and sooth stained his face and hands, but he was all right. Pausing only to slide my arms through its sleeves and button it, I hugged him to me. I was too relieved to feel funny about the fact the he was half naked.

"Any casualties?", I inquired.

"No. And no real injuries."

"Really?"

"Some broken bones. Sprained muscles. A lot of bruising. Nothing serious. Mostly they're confused.", my boss assured me. Meanwhile, Pam had arranged her maker into something resembling a standing position. Her fingers were hooked in his arm pit. His arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"What are you gonna tell them?", I inquired. 'You' being the vampires. 'Tell' a euphemism for glamour.

"Breed mould.", She said.

"Breed mould?", I repeated.

"It's been known to cause hallucinations."

"They'll want to believe it", Eric interjected: "It's palatable."

And allowed them the luxury of unworried forgetfulness.


	7. After

After

The yard and gardens were littered with garbage and they'd forced the back door open. Inside my ancestral home everything was broken or stained if not both. Caked with mud, what I suspected was blood and... Various other, as of yet unidentified, substances. Even the walls were grubby. If they'd dug up Gran's body and set it on fire, it would've less of an desecration of her memory. Somehow I managed to keep it together until Sam left. Then found myself nestled on the porch swing, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Please don't cry."

I yelped with fright.

"Eric? What the hell you doing here?"

Last I'd seen him he'd been tearing through bags of donor blood, his gaze fixed on Pam as she barked orders at people. Since then he'd changed into a green T-shirt and blue jeans. His eyes were such a bright blue that they appeared luminescent.

"You are in distress.", he said.

"It's dawn in less than an hour.", I countered, wiping the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my borrowed shirt.

"Where would Bill stay during the day."

"At his house."

He frowned. Then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. Vampires were at their most vulnerable in the day time. Bill hadn't trusted me to keep him safe.

"Why were you crying?"

"My house is a wreck."

Tears welled in my ears. Again. Dammit!

"That's it?", he noted, his voice cool and dispassionate.

"Yeah, that's it."

Acid dripped from my every word. Unperturbed, Eric pried the front door open. It creaked ominously. Peering across the threshold, his nostrils flared. He extracted his cell phone from his jeans pocket.

"I'll contact Dotsy and Sadie. They are professional cleaners. The best there is."

_Oh_

"Don't. I'll clean it up myself."

"Their speciality is crime scenes. They'll steam clean every available surface."

He grimaced.

"Believe me, you're in dire need of their expertise."

I shuddered. Nonetheless... I bit my lip.

"I can't afford it."

I felt the porch shift as he took a seat next to me. Eric was a big man.

"Money isn't an issue."

He placed a slip of paper in my hand. It was a 100.000 dollar check. Issued by Northman Limited.

"For services rendered in Dallas."

"That's four times the agreed amount", I squeaked.

"Compensation. I repeatedly put you in harm's way. I would like us to conclude our business on good terms."

Point taken. Still...

"If it weren't for you, the maenad would've turned Sam and I into pie filing."

Well, parts of us, anyway.

"You wouldn't be of much use to me then."

I shot him a sideways glance. He was surprisingly adept at texting, considering the size of his hands.

"And the shifter owes me a favour."

"You were just protecting an asset?"

He got to his feet.

"Dotsy and Sadie will be here in approximately five hours. They stipulate that you're absent from the premises during the proceedings.".

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Neither of them are why you'd term a people person."

Hence their speciality.

"What's the time frame?"

"Less than 48 hours."

Between work and all, it would take me at least a week to get this place up to snuff. I couldn't have that. Not when there was a readily available alternative. Besides, while I'm a house proud do-it-yourself kinda gal, this whole thing was so out bounds of normalcy that... well, I felt comfortable making an exception from the rule.

"All right."

He smiled then. A proper smile. Not a smirk. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It was a first. Outside my dreams, that is. A thing of rare beauty. Stunning.

"Good."

His soft lips grazed my cheek.

"Take care, Miss Stackhouse."

And with that he was gone. You'd had to hand it to him. He sure knew how to make a memorable exit.

* * *

I stayed with Jason for a couple of days. It was nice, actually. My brother was trying his hardest not to be a thoughtless ass. He even did the dishes. Still, there is nowhere like home. Dotsy and Sadie left had it in a immaculate state. Inside and out. The bill was steep, but I paid it without rancor. The living room sported a fresh coat of paint and several pieces of furniture had been reupholstered. My clothing and linens had been washed, dried and neatly folded. Broken picture frames had been replaced and they'd fixed the backdoor. They'd even weeded the flowerbeds.

Work was uneventful, but tense. Few had the ability to look me in the eye, which was mildly amusing. Mind, Terry was the only one who apologized and volunteered for clean up duty, which was depressing. Terry didn't stand much to loose by admitting to temporary, bread mould induced, insanity. Its the dubious privilege of the mentally ill. The non-closeted ones, that is. Meanwhile, Tara and Jessica were avoiding me. That hurt. They both worked at Merlottte's. I felt the sting of rejection on an everyday basis. Eventually I cracked and listened in on the thoughts of my childhood friend. I found her racked with guilt. Gran had been like a second mother to her and Tara was anything but disloyal. Besides, she was up to her neck in worry on account of Eggs. He'd been with Maryanne for a long time. Apparently he found it difficult to cope without her.

Bill stayed out of sight if not out of mind. It was strange. He'd always been so persistent. It had been exactly ten days since we'd parted on less than amiable terms when a FedEx guy came looking for me at Merlotte's in the late afternoon. I signed for two packages, one the size and shape of a garment bag, the other that of a shoe box. That and a plain white envelope. It contained a single sheet of paper, naming a time and a place.

"Is it from anyone we know?", Sam inquired.

"Bill.", I said, stuffing the letter into a pocket in my shorts.

"Aren't you gonna open them?"

Arlene had a nosy streak a mile wide.

"No. We're not together any more."

I might as well let the cat out of the bag.

"I'm sorry.", she lied. Ignoring the clamour of impatient customer, Tara dragged me into Sam's office.

"Why didn't you tell me that you guys broke up?", she hissed.

"You didn't ask.", I said tartly.

"Why should I need to ask? We can't all be mind readers, you know.", she replied in equally soothing tones. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. I felt myself soften.

"Some stuff happened in Dallas."

"Did he hurt you?"

I wanted to say no. It was on the tip of my tongue. An automatic response.

"Yes."

But it would have been a lie. Our gazes locked.

"Do you still want him?"


	8. Memory Lane

Memory Lane

It was a Shreveport address. The time specified allowed me plenty of time to go home and primp, whereas forfeiting it allowed me make a pit stop at Fangtasia. Still wearing my work clothes, I bypassed the queue of scowling fangbangers. Pam manned the door, wearing what I'd come to think off as her standard dominatrix outfit and sultry leer.

"Eric is in New Orleans."

"I'm not here for him. I need to talk to you."

"Oh my."

She batted her lashes at me and licked her lips.

"I am a lucky girl."

* * *

"What do you want?", she purred, taking a seat behind Eric's desk. I remained on my feet.

"Information."

Suddenly Pam was all business. Gone was any trace of flirtation from her demeanour.

"Go on."

"Godric told me that you knew Bill when you was human..."

My voice faltered. The temperature in room just dropped an additional ten degrees. From cool too freezing.

"Please."

A beat.

"Fine.", she huffed.

"I was running a brothel in San Francisco at the turn of the century-"

"You were a madam?"

She had a very impressive stare.

"Sorry.", I murmured: "Sorry. Go on. Please."

Sometimes it truly is a magic word.

"Several of my employs were murdered. Drained. One night I got corned in an alley by a maniac who got off on butchering women. That's when I first met Eric."

A rare smile lit up her features.

"He paid the cost of getting my dress cleaned."

Noting my confusion she added: "The creep had a lot of blood in him."

I nodded in encouragement.

"So I made him a business proposal. For his part, Eric agreed to find the perpetrator and put a stop to the murders."

My heart sank as I felt the colour drain from my face.

"It's was Bill?"

"And Lorena. We caught them in the act. She glamoured the girl. Made her think that she was dirty and worthless. Then she watched him rape her."

Bill. My first. I felt nauseous.

"A vampire has to obey his maker.", I countered, grasping at straws. Pam's gaze was steely. Unwavering.

"I know foreplay when I see it. Compton tried to stake Eric. He was terribly offended that someone had dared to threaten his darling Lorena. She had to talk him down."

* * *

My knees buckled. Pam caught me and deposited me on the couch. I hugged my knees to my chest, shivering.

"All he did was threaten them?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"He knew better than to make an enemy of his own kind."

In addition to those if the human variety.

"What did he get in return.", I heard myself ask, eliciting another rare smile from my fierce companion.

"Me. For a night."

For a night. Not The Night. I felt compelled to ask: "Did you want to be a vampire?"

"Yes."

* * *

I was running a good 45 minutes late as I approached the appointed place for our assignation. I'd left Pam sitting in the car. Her car. She'd threatened to lock me up in the basement unless I allowed her to play the part of my designated driver. It was a fancy French restaurant. Deserted by human and vampires alike. The door was open. I made sure not to touch anything. Upon entering the dining room I found that all furniture had been removed but a table for two. It was set for one. A chair had been knocked over. Next to it was a small box, lined with black velvet. Its lid had been pried off its hinges, revealing its content for the world to see: A silver diamond engagement ring.


	9. Be My Guest

Be My Guest

I left a voice mail for Sam, cancelling my shift. My shields were compromised. I wasn't fit for company. Nor was I fit to endure my own. I was restless. Itchy. Unable to settle myself. There was a void in my chest where my heart used to be. Gradually expanding. Squeezing the air from my lungs. I scrubbed the kitchen floor, ignoring the fact that it was already spotless. Once it was light out, I put on my old gym short short and sneakers. I ran, ignoring the stinging sensation in my side. I must have looked like a mad woman, tearing through the woods. I ran until I could run no more. Until I collapsed on the forest floor, throwing up what little was left of my slap dash dinner. The acid burned my throat. I welcomed the sensation as well as the long walk home. Once inside, I dumped my sweaty clothes into the hamper, cleaned my teeth and took a shower, leaving the water on cold. When I emerged from the bathroom I was shivering with cold and exhaustion. I wrapped my hair in a towel and put on cotton night shirt. As I slipped beneath the covers I prayed for sleep. Just this once my prayers were answered. As my head hit the pillow I was dead to the world.

* * *

I was still in my robe when Eric came knocking on my door that night. Suddenly I felt acutely aware of the fact that my hair was a bird's nest. He looked great of course. Dressed in black: Black jeans, boots, T-shirt and motor cycle jacket.

"I wish that I'd killed him."

Whatever happened to hello?

"What do you want, Eric?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

His eyes raked over my body.

"Invite me in."

I crossed my arms.

"Why?"

"There's a wolf in your living room."

* * *

"Don't!"

Eric wedged himself between me and the snarling creature, taking the bullet in stomach. I lowered the gun. Exasperated. The smell of Eric's blood seemed to make the wolf forget all sense of self preservation. He jumped on him, tearing into his gut. Eric's hands locked around its neck.

"Let go!"

It didn't. So I kicked it in the head, stunning it momentarily. They rolled over: A move that left Eric on top, using his weight to immobilize the animal as he squeezed the life out of it. That's when it changed. From a rabid wolf with matted grey fur into a wheezing, heavily tattooed, middle aged man with bloodshot eyes.

"Who. Do. You. Work. For.", Eric snarled.

"I'd rather die than betray my master.", the werewolf gurgled.

"As you wish.", Eric growled. Then he tore the man's throat out.

* * *

Eric wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression one of disgust. His gaze remained fixed on the dead man's shoulder. On a brand. Someone had branded him. As if he was a piece of cattle.

A long moment passed. Eric could've been mistaken for a statue.

"What's wrong?"

Other than the fact that there was a dead werewolf, bleeding all over my living room floor, that is.

"I'll dispose of this."

And with that there wasn't a dead werewolf, bleeding all over my living room. That counts as progress, right? Eric reappeared fifteen minutes minutes later. I'd been counting 'em as I'd scrubbed the floor and put away the cleaning supplies. I showed him to the bathroom. He emerged from it, carrying his jacket, his chest bare.

"What does the brand mean?"

"Its a brand of ownership."

I'd figured as much.

"The first time I saw it was a thousand years ago. Imprinted on the bodies of the wolf men that killed my human family."

* * *

I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly to me.

"I'm so sorry."

Eric buried his face in my hair. His chest rose and fell. I grabbed his hand and lead him to my bedroom. He followed without protest, as pale as any ghost. His facial expression may best have been described as stunned. The end destination was my bed, beneath the the covers. Once he'd kicked off his shoes. I was on my side as was he, facing each other. I kissed the palm of his hand.

"My father was Viking chief. A king of sorts."

Making Eric a prince of sorts, which accounted for his ability to tower while seated on that ridicules contraption in Fangtasia.

"I promised him as he'd lay dying that I'd avenge their deaths. I've always been a great fighter."

A matter of fact observation. Not bragging.

"My father commanded many brave men and women. Fine soldiers. Once rallied, we sent the pack running to their master, but rather than face us he took to their air and the werewolves scattered. I was unwilling to divide my forces at that point. Our strength lay in numbers. Meanwhile, in our absence our lands were unprotected."

Leaving the weak and infirm easy prey for any vengeful wolf beyond the reach of Eric and his forces. Yet the decision to desist in the immediate pursuit of the perpetuators of his family's murder was one he still clearly felt the need to justify.

"Their master is a vampire?", I asked the only immortal supernatural creature that I knew could fly.

"Yes. He feeds them his blood. "

"And now they've got Bill."

He blinked.

"Why else would they want me?"

He snaked an arm around my waist. I inched closer to him, rubbing my cheek against his chest.

"Tomorrow night the Queen will be visiting Fangtasia."

"The Queen?"

"Of Louisiana. My boss. Sophia Anne LeClerk. She wants to question you on the subject of Bill's pet project."

"What project?"

"I don't know the specifics. Just that its going to be a money earner and that she is dire need of it. The IRS are breathing down her neck."

He stroked my back.

"Her lavish tastes makes it impossible to disguise the extent of her fortunes. She didn't have the foresight required to raise the cash needed to pacify the US government previous to the great revelation."

"You can cheat death, but there's always taxes.", I quipped. His lips grazed my hair.

"Death comes to us all. Even vampires."

I didn't like the sound of that. At all.

"You're not safe here. Not during the day. I'd like you stay with me. At my home."

* * *

I packed a food parcel as well as enough clothes to last me a week. Just in case. Upon second though I added toothpaste and toilet paper to the former. Again, just in case. Eric eyed my little yellow car with disdain as I loaded the trunk.

"That's not a car. It's a rusty piece of junk."

I gritted my teeth.

"It gets me from A to Z."

"You are upset?"

Yes.

"No. It's just..."

His blue gaze was boring into me.

"It's my car. Bought and paid for. With my very first pay check."

Silence.

"It's not much, but its mine."

"You view it as an extension of yourself."

"No."

Did I?

"If the world was a just place nurses would be earning six figures and bankers would be paupers."

Huh?

"I'd like to purchase you a new car."

"No."

"You need a new car."

"No. Thank you, but no."

He frowned.

"The expense involved is on par with Pam's monthly shoe budget."

"I value my independence.", I countered. He sighed.

"You'd make a great vampire. Your cynicism is unparalleled."

* * *

I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it sure wasn't a ranch style house in a gated community. Nor had I expected to find myself inside Eric's daytime resting place. In his bed. Despite the contents of my dreams as of late. I'd put on a boring old cotton night shirt. An oversized T-shirt. Meanwhile, Eric was wearing nothing but blue silk boxers. He wrapped an arm around me and flung a leg over mine.

"I have plenty of guest rooms."

I relaxed. Marginally.

"I want to be here."

Close to him. The question was: How close?

This wasn't a case of fluttering butterflies. It was bats.

His lips latched onto mine. I turned to face him, deepening the kiss.

I moved his hand from my cheek to my breast. His thumb grazed my hardened nipple through the fabric, making me shiver. He groaned. I dipped a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, palming his pert, perfect, butt. Rubbing myself against his hard length. His hips twitched. His mouth moved to my collarbone, allowing me to draw a much needed, shuddering, breath.

"You should be naked,", he murmured, his voice low and throaty.

"Uhu.", I breathed. My panties vanished. He had talented fingers. I clung to him, kissing him for all that I was worth. I wanted more of him. Needed him. More than I'd ever needed anything. Anyone. I rolled onto my back, pulling him with me. My shirt disappeared. In the dim light his azure gaze seemed almost fluorescent. I was flushed, my body sleek with sweat.

"Beautiful", he murmured. His hands found my naked breasts, kneading them. I whimpered.

"So beautiful."

His tongue dipped into my navel.

"And kind."

The sensation of expelled air made my hips buck in anticipation. My fingers tangled in his hair.


	10. Royally Screwed

Royally Screwed

I was a mess. A sweaty, blissed out, mess. I felt as if my very bones had turned into Jelly.

"That was..."

My first orgasm during sex, no biting required. Correction: Orgasms during sex, no biting required.

"Amazing."

Sometimes words fail me. Eric nestled his nose in the crook of my neck.

"I feel the same way about you."

I stroked his broad back, savouring the moment. Only...

"You're worried."

I could only picture one reason why Eric would be disinclined to drink from me: If he thought I'd would need all my strength in the trials to come.

* * *

"It's not a nickname. It's a title."

I snorted.

"You have kings and queens?"

"Yes."

"That's... Medieval."

He kissed my shoulder.

"The old ones tend to view democracy as a passing fancy."

Kings and queens do that.

"What about you?"

"Representative democracy has it's own set of advantages and drawbacks. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. The same can be said for monarchy."

Hmmm...

"How's she like? Sophie Anne?"

"400 years my junior. A puppet queen. The previous queen, Thalia, was 600 years my senior. She earned her crown."

"How do you do that?"

"You usurp the residing monarch and her retinue."

"As in off with their heads?"

He chuckled.

"Indeed. Then you scheme to keep your own,"

"Whatever happened to earning people's trust and loyalty by means of brilliant leadership?", I quipped. His expression grew serious.

"The successful ones usually do both. Thalia was a good Queen."

I reached for him, tracing the outline of his lips with my fingertips.

"What about you? You don't wanna be king?"

"No."

A beat.

"Power has no value unless it serves to insure your freedom and the safety of the people that you care for."

My lips graced his cheek.

"Sophie Anne is a AVL plant. Nan Flanagan's agent. She, in turn, is the Authority's pawn. A powerful contingent of vampires that orchestrated the Great Revelation. "

* * *

Fangtasia was deserted but for the presence of Sophie Anne and her bodyguards. She had a lot of them. Pam caught up with up with Eric and I at the door. Rather than her usual brand of dominatrix chic, she wore a pale pink two piece dress suit and pearls with matching pumps. It suited her.

She eyed us critically. Silently.

Eric had donned a black dress shirt and black dress pants. Judging by the perfect fit each item was tailor-made for him. The outfit that Pam had picked out for me cost more than I made in a year, slinging chicken baskets at Merlotte's. She hadn't thought to remove the price tags. It was a black, silk, cocktail dress with red pumps and a matching bag.

"That'll do."

The final verdict was favourable if not enthusiastic. I was beyond relieved that Eric had convinced me to wear the outfit in question. His argument had been simple yet effective. Pam was spoiled. To the point of notoriety. And Eric didn't keep pets. I was the exception from the rule. An asset. I'd be spoiled rotten.

Her nostrils flared. She grinned, showcasing more than a hint of fang.

"Your scent is divine."

A make out session in the shower had turned into full on sex on Eric's bedroom floor. I'd never known that I could crave someone... So voraciously. I didn't think that was something women did. Presently, my face was a bright fire hydrant red.

"The queen will see you now.", One of the goons announced. I shot Eric a quick sideways glance, wondering what Gran would've thought of him. If she would've liked him?

Probably not.

His ruthlessness and propensity for violence was undeniable. Furthermore, his manners were appalling. He was the non-breathing embodiment of the stereotypical vampire playboy. Everything that Bill wasn't. Or so I'd thought.

* * *

Sophie Anne was a dead ringer for Scarlett O'Hara. If the latter had been flame-haired, green-eyed and wearing a gigantic fur coat in spite of the humid heat that's the hallmark of a Louisiana summer, while perched on a throne.

"Majesty.", he said: A single word accompanied by a low bow: A gesture endowed with such grace that it seemed almost uncanny. I only managed a hobbled curtsy.

"This is my-"

"Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse. Property of Bill Compton or so I'd been lead to believe.", she interjected, a frown marring her features.

Eric shrugged.

"Things change."

What followed happened too quick for my eyes to register. Suddenly Eric was flat on his back. Sophia Anne had him by the throat, snarling: "Show me your fangs!"

He obliged her.

"There they are. Aren't they lovely?", she added in a purr. Then kissed them. Technically. There was nothing tender about the gesture.

"You might be the oldest and most richest vampire in my queendom, but defy me and I'll wear them as earrings!"

* * *

Eric got to his feet, readjusting his clothing. Only the set of his shoulders revealed his discomfort. Sophie Anne's gaze fixed on yours truly. Her fangy smile was nearly blinding in its insincerity.

"My dear. It's pleasure to meet you. Bill has told me so much about you.", she gushed.

"That's funny. He's told me nothing about you."

The look in her eye was as warm and fuzzy as that of snake.

"Good. I would expect nothing less. He signed a confidentiality agreement."

Eric wrapped a protective hand around my waist. His touch was light. I could walk away at any time. I leaned into him.

"What do you want?"

"What I'm owed."

I though the urge to roll my eyes. The woman was as obnoxious as she was scary.

"Specifics would be helpful."

Eric stiffened.

"Majesty."

A beat.

"Your cellphone."

They'd already searched my house, the resident tech geek informed me. Hired werewolf thugs, that is, looking to reclaim any device in my possession that might serve as a storage unit for digitized information. She was a vampire. A tiny brunette. As cute as a button. Endearing. Even-though my lack of anything in the way of a personal computer made her eye me in a manner usually reserved for zoo animals.

"Nope. That's not it.", she said, concluding her present examination.

"Are you sure?", Sophia Anne inquired.

"Yep."

The queen snatched the device from the girl's outstretched hand. It hit the opposite wall with a loud clatter, the force of the impact reducing my first ever cellphone to shrapnel.

Tense silence.

She drew a long, unnecessary, breath.

"I was hoping that it wouldn't come to this. I was hoping to profit from her ability."

I let my shields drop, kicking myself for not doing so sooner. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. There was a captive witch in Eric's office. A woman named Marnie. Captive. Scared witless. They'd bleed me to death. To find Bill.

"No."

That was Eric.

"No?"

A mesh work of red lights appeared. Laser. Fixed on Eric's chest. On his un-beating heart.

"It's an unnecessary expense. I know where to look for him."

Her eyes narrowed.

"How."

"A werewolf with a Mississippi accent tried to take Sookie. Their kind congregate in Jackson."

A beat.

"Fine. Take her with you. Use her as a scout. Or bait. I don't care. Your child is in my custody."


	11. The Truth

Considering the... Thing that is DEA, I might be willing to give TB a shot again. I might even become a causal Nora/Eric shipper. Who knows? It won't, however, change anything as far as this fic is concerned. I might be outing myself as an 'entitled' reader, but I liked the Eric and Sookie of DITF a hell of a lot better than the finished result. I'll be staying true to my perception of the former rather than my perception of the latter in my depiction of the characters in question.

* * *

The Truth

Eric's POV.

"How do we do this?"

Sookie Stackhouse was sitting on my bed, towelling her hair, still wet from the shower. She wore my silk robe. It was loosely tied, revealing tantalizing glimpses of tanned skin

"We don't. I do."

She glared at me.

"I've got a brother."

A pressure point.

"All that matters is results.", I maintained: "Your presence isn't required."

Glare.

* * *

It was a phone call that I'd hoped I never would have had to make. The shifter picked up on the third ring.

"Tell her what you told me."

Sookie plucked the device from my outstretched hand. I took a seat on the bed, keeping my back turned to her.

"Sam?"

"Sookie, I.."

"What is it?"

Sigh.

"That night. When the Rattrays beat you. I was there. Dean was there."

Incredulous silence.

"Bill wasn't late. He was there. In the shadows. Watching."

* * *

"Sook?.. Please, say something."

"Why did you keep this from me? I thought we were friends-"

"I couldn't tell you. I..."

She chuckled. It was a sound devoid of humour.

"Had you own secret to protect. One you didn't trust me to keep."

"I... I figured that you wouldn't believe anything I'd say. That you hate me."

A credible fear given his inaction and deceit.

"I tried to keep you away from him, but after the thing with Rene, I figured that he'd had a change of heart. That he really loved you."

_Click_

Silence. Laboured breathing.

Cursing silently, I turned to face her. She was crying. I loathed to see her cry. It was... Unsettling.

"I think that Bill was sent to Bon Temps. To procure you as Sophie Anne's pet telepath."

"No!"

A beat.

"How would she even know that I exist?", she countered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Do you know someone named Hadley?"

Sophie Anne's present favourite. There was a certain family likeness. In terms of scent as well as looks.

* * *

Sookie's POV.

It shouldn't hurt. Not after everything I'd learned about Bill. Sam's betrayal. That should hurt. I did hurt. My cousin selling me out to her vampire lover. That qualified as a low blow. Still...

Sam's words echoed in my mind.

_'I... I figured that you wouldn't believe anything I'd say. That you hate me.'_

I buried my my face in my hands. I wanted to scream. To lash out. And I wanted, more than anything, to prove him wrong.

_I won't kill the messenger, I won't kill the messenger, I won't kill-_

I knew stuff that that people knew, but wish they'd forget. That they lied about. To themselves. Or, rather, people thought I knew things that they lied about. To themselves. About themselves. Unpleasant truths. To them I was an ever-present reminder of things best forgotten. A messenger. That's why they'd shun me. It was the true curse of any telepath.

"Angry sex helps."

Eric's voice was cool. So very matter of fact.

I snorted. Tears gave way to laughter. I wrapped my arms around his neck, laughing. He rubbed my back. It was soothing.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to cause you pain."

The phrasing was abrupt and stilted. The words were strange: Not a regular part of his vocabulary. Neither quality detracted from the inherent truth of the statement.

Laughter gave way to tears. I cried until I had no more tears left. I was a damp, limp, soppy mess, straddling his lap, my head tucked beneath his chin. My nose nestled in the crook of his neck.

I was calm. Exhausted. And I knew what I had to do.

"I'm coming with you. I want answers."


	12. Going to Jackson

Going to Jackson

Sookie's POV.

It was eight thirty. AM. Way to early considering the hours I'd been keeping as of late.

"Hi. I'm Alcide Herveaux."

Tall. Dark. Handsome. Werewolf. Looking good in his black boots, bluejeans and red flannel button down shirt.

"Pleased to meet ya, I'm Sookie Stackhouse."

A girl wearing cutoffs, black Nike's and an old sweatshirt of her brother's, with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. No make up. I shook his hand. My shields were compromised, presumably on account of a lack of sleep. Despite the red, snarly, feel of his brain, his thoughts were loud and clear. Apparently I was oozing Eau du Viking Vampire Sex.

"Don't be such a judgmental asshole!", I snapped, my arms crossed over my chest, hands balled into fists. He froze.

'Did I say that out loud?'

That I seemed too wholesome. Too nice. For a fangbanger.

"I'm sorry.", he stuttered.

I sighed.

"Me too. I'm a telepath."

Who'd been foolish enough to expect that a werewolf would be less prejudiced than your average human. His dark eyes widened.

"You read my mind?"

"Just for a second."

Or two.

He picked up my luggage and placed it in the back of his van. I climbed into the passenger's seat, feeling weary beyond my years. It was gonna a long ride. Alcide was silently cursing his dad's gambling habit, which had left him Eric's indentured servant. My babysitter.

* * *

The Jackson pack-master was a former US army colonel. His body now wore jeans and a navy T-shirt. His mind still wore fatigues. His name was Henry blood. Upon retiring he'd settled in farm style house in a family friendly neighbourhood with his now late wife. Once Alcide and I were installed on the porch, soft drink of choice in hand, I passed him a sketch of the infamous brand. It was done in pencil. On the back of an unused envelope. An Eric Northman Original.

"What does this mean to you?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Why are you asking?"

"A werewolf attacked me last night. I need to know if he was a pack member."

Alcide winced.

"No."

The very idea offended the colonel.

"What can you tell me about them?"

Alcide winced. Again.

"Sir."

The subsequent silence seemed to stretch to eternity and beyond.

"They're not a pack. They're a gang. Or a cult. "

A fairly recent addition to the Jackson supernal scene. They'd been around for less than nine months. In that time he'd lost more than half a dozen wolves to them.

"Once you join, that's it. You leave in a pine box."

Or just plain disappear. Mostly. Bits would reappear. Crucial, life sustaining, ones. His gaze fixed on Alcide.

"Their favourite watering hole is the Hair of the Dog."

A bar that was set to serve as the venue of the engagement party of Alcide's ex-girlfriend, Debbie Pelt. Tonight.

He told me as much. In the car.

She'd invited him. To spite him.

I got that titbit of information straight from his brain. The cause of their break up had been the issue of children. He didn't want any. Any werewolf cups, that is.

I bit my lip.

Looking more tired than anything else, he said:

"We're going, aren't we?"

I patted his arm apologetically.

"It'll be the last thing Eric and I'll ever ask of you."

I'd make sure of that. Somehow.

* * *

Alcide lived in an apartment building in downtown Jackson. On the fourth floor. Eric tapped on the window of the guest room. I screamed. Alcide burst trough the door, wearing naught but a pair of black boxer short, as I unlatched it. His pecs were impressive. Like something out of _300_. I'd give him that.

"Don't do that!", I scolded my... Whatever it was that Eric was to me.

"Invite me in."

I frowned.

"It's not my home."

His expression was grim. Without as much as a faint trace of a smirk.

"Invite me in."

A grumbling Alcide did just that. Eric climbed through the opening with as much grace as can be mustered by a man of his size. He wore a black leather jacket. Unzipped. With matching boots and jeans. Nothing else. Not even styling gel.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room. Eventually I said: "Alcide, I need to talk to Eric. could you give us a minute?"

* * *

"No shirt?", I said, my fingertips tracing the outline of Eric's collarbone.

"Russell has a keen eye for male beauty. He's famous for it."

I flushed. The movements of my hands stilled.

"So... He bought your cover story?"

Something about turning Fantasia into a franchise. Scouting locations with his human pet in tow.

Eric shrugged.

"He suspects everything. That's the reason why he's king."

Vampires weren't allowed to move freely between States. Or Areas for that matter. Paying the powers that be a visit was a basic requirement. Not optional. Jackson was the home of Russell Edgington, the king of Mississippi.

"Do you think its him?"

The vampire pack master, who'd had Eric's human family killed. He fit the description in terms of age: 2000 + years.

"Everything is possible. "

"Probable?"

"No"

* * *

"Using the blood as a means to fuel a small army of pet werewolves is a big fucking no no."

The stuff of Nan Flanagan's worst nightmares. An accidental outing of the two-natured fueled by vampire blood would have disastrous consequences.

"Staying off the Authority's radar is of paramount importance."

Whereas nonarchs weren't low key. As a rule.

I passed on the information that I'd gleamed from my brief interview with Henry Flood, finishing with the news of my almost wedding date with Alcide.

"Then you're going to need this."

A glass vial that contained a strange, cloudy, purple liquid.

"It make you look different. Smell different. Even sound different. For a total of 48 hours."

"Taste any different?", I interjected.

"No."

Just wondering.

* * *

Author's POV.

The room was luxurious. Opulent. Littered with antiques. No expense had been spared. Its centre piece was a four-poster bed with crimson silk curtains and bedding. Only the absence of windows and the presence of steel doors coated with silver, gave away the fact that it was a cell, designed with a particular kind of prisoner in mind. Bill was standing by the fireplace. Shirtless and barefoot. His back was turned to Lorena, sprawled on the bed, wearing naught but a loosely tied white silk kimono. Rubbing her neck, she drawled: "That was the best sex I've had in years."

"I hated every minute of it."

She scoffed.

"I'm not a gash in a sun dress. You can't fool me."

"Practice makes perfect."

The retort earned him a slap that sent him flying into a nearby wall. Then a kick to the ribs.

"If you think I've forgotten that you left me for the likes of Diane, you're sorely mistaken."


End file.
